Me vs. The Universe

I can take a smack in the face hint. The Universe does not want me to swim.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve wasted hours getting up early and putting on my bathing suit (when all I wanted to do is pull up my covers), then writing down workouts, driving 15 minutes to the pool, only to have to turn around and drive 15 minutes right back home. Last week: right time, wrong day. This week: right day, wrong time.

I admit it. I cried in my minivan in the pool parking lot this morning. I felt defeated. Like the Universe won. I so wanted to swim.

On the drive home, my mind raced trying to figure out how I would get in a workout today. I could run. I could get home, change, and get out the door for three miles. That seemed easy. I could do that, I thought as I squinted trying to see out my windshield and through the pouring rain.

But by the time I got home, I talked myself out of it. My legs need a rest. I ran Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And I’m not used to running three days in a row. I’m not going to risk injury. I got out of the van and flip-flapped up the driveway in my flip-flops, my feet getting wet. Biking is definitely out.

I let myself in, went upstairs, showered and got ready for the day. We had to go sign our tax return, then I wanted to take T Junior to the movies.

That was this morning. It’s almost evening now and I just finished my workout.

Well, Universe: I see your no-swim, half-a-bag-of-popcorn-day and I raise you Level Two AND Three of Jillian Michaels’s 30-Day Shred.

Ha!

I win!